XV.
During the last visits which Daniel had paid to Henrietta, he had notconcealed from her the fact that Maxime de Brevan had formerly beenquite intimate with Sarah Brandon and her friends. But still, inexplaining his reasons for trying to renew these relations, M. de Brevanhad acted with his usual diplomacy.
But for this, she might have conceived some vague suspicions when shesaw him, soon after he had left her, enter into a long conversationwith the countess, then speak with Sir Thorn, and finally chat mostconfidentially with austere Mrs. Brian. But now, if she noticed it all,she was not surprised. Her mind was, in fact, thousands of miles away.She thought only of that letter which she had in her pocket, and whichwas burning her fingers, so to say. She could think of nothing else.
What would she not have given for the right to run away and read it atonce? But adversity was teaching her gradually circumspection; and shefelt it would be unwise to leave the room before the last guests haddeparted. Thus it was past two o'clock in the morning before she couldopen the precious letter, after having dismissed her faithful Clarissa.
Alas! she did not find what she had hoped for,--advice, or, better thanthat, directions how she should conduct herself. The fact is, thatin his terrible distress, Daniel no longer was sufficiently master ofhimself to look calmly at the future, and to weigh the probabilities. Inhis despair he had filled three pages with assurances of his love, withpromises that his last thoughts would be for her, and with prayersthat she would not forget him. There were hardly twenty lines left forrecommendations, which ought to have contained the most precise andminute details.
All his suggestions, moreover, amounted to this,--arm yourself withpatience and resignation till my return. Do not leave your father'shouse unless in the last extremity, in case of pressing danger, andunder no circumstances without first consulting Maxime.
And to fill up the measure, from excessive delicacy, and fearing towound his friend's oversensitive feelings, Daniel had omitted to informHenrietta of certain most important circumstances. Thus he only toldher, that, if flight became her only means of escape from actualdanger, she need not hesitate from pecuniary considerations; that he hadforeseen every thing, and made the needful preparations.
How could she guess from this, that the unlucky man, carried away andblinded by passion, had intrusted fifty or sixty thousand dollars, hisentire fortune, to his friend Maxime? Still the two friends agreed toofully on the same opinion to allow her to hesitate. Thus, when she fellasleep, she had formed a decision. She had vowed to herself that shewould meet all the torments they might inflict upon her, with thestoicism of the Indian who is bound to the stake, and to be, amongher enemies, like a dead person, whom no insult can galvanize into thesemblance of life.
During the following weeks it was not so difficult for her to keepher promises. Whether it were weariness or calculation, they seemed toforget her. Except at meals, they took no more notice of her than if shehad not been in existence.
That sudden access of affection which had moved Count Ville-Handryon that evening when he thought his daughter in danger had long sincepassed away. He only honored her with ironical glances, and neveraddressed a word to her. The countess observed a kind of affectionatereserve, like a well-disposed person who has seen all her advancesrepelled, and who is hurt, but quite ready to be friends at the firstsign. Mrs. Brian never opened her thin lips but to growl out someunpleasant remark, of which a single word was intelligible: shocking!There remained the Hon. M. Elgin, whose sympathetic pity showed itselfdaily more clearly. But, since Maxime's warning, Henrietta avoided himanxiously.
She was thus leading a truly wretched life in this magnificent palace,in which she was kept a prisoner by her father's orders; for such shewas; she could no longer disguise it from herself. She felt at everymoment that she was watched, and overlooked most jealously, even whenthey seemed to forget her most completely. The great gates, formerlyalmost always open, were now kept carefully closed; and, when they wereopened to admit a carriage, the concierge mounted guard before them, asif he were the keeper of a jail. The little garden-gate had been securedby two additional enormous locks; and whenever Henrietta, during herwalks in the garden, came near it, she saw one of the gardeners watchher with anxious eyes. They were apparently afraid, not only that shemight escape, but that she might keep up secret communications withthe outer world. She wanted to be clear about that; and one morning sheasked her father's permission to send to the Duchess of Champdoce,and beg her to come and spend the day with her. But Count Ville-Handrybrutally replied that he did not want to see the Duchess of Champdoce;and that, besides, she was not in Paris, as her husband had taken hersouth to hasten her recovery.
On another occasion, toward the end of February, and when several daysof fine spring weather had succeeded each other, the poor child couldnot help expressing a desire to go out and breathe a little fresh air.Her father said, in reply to her request,--"Every day, your mother andI go out and drive for an hour or two in the Bois de Boulogne. Why don'tyou go with us?"
She said nothing. She would sooner have allowed herself to be cut topieces than to appear in public seated by the side of the young countessand in the same carriage with her.
Months passed thus without her having put a foot outside of the palace,except her daily attendance at mass at eight o'clock on Sunday mornings.Count Ville-Handry had not dared to refuse her that; but he had addedthe most painful and most humiliating conditions. On these occasions M.Ernest, his valet, accompanied her, with express orders not to lether speak to any one whatsoever, and to "apprehend" her (this was thecount's own expression), and to bring her back forcibly, if needs be, ifshe should try to escape.
But in vain they multiplied the insults; they did not extort a singlecomplaint. Her unalterable patience would have touched ordinaryexecutioners. And yet she had no other encouragement, no other support,but what she received from M. de Brevan.
Faithful to the plan which he had mentioned to her, he had managed sowell as gradually to secure the right to come frequently to the house.He was on the best terms with Mrs. Brian; and the count invited himto dinner. At this time Henrietta had entirely overcome her prejudiceagainst him. She had discovered in M. de Brevan such a respectfulinterest in her welfare, such almost womanly delicacy, and so muchprudence and discretion, that she blessed Daniel for having left herthis friend, and counted upon his devotion as upon that of a brother.
Was it not he, who, on certain evenings, when she was well-nigh overcomeby despair, whispered to her,--
"Courage; here is another day gone! Daniel will soon be back!"
But the more Henrietta was left to the inspirations of solitude, andcompelled to live within herself only, the more she observed all thatwas going on around her. And she thought she noticed some very strangechanges. Never would Count Ville-Handry's first wife have been able torecognize her reception-rooms. Where was that select society which hadbeen attracted by her, and which she had fashioned into something like acourt, in which her husband was king? The palace had become, so to say,the headquarters of that motley society which forms the "Foreign Legion"of pleasure and of scandal.
Sarah Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, was surrounded by that strangearistocracy which has risen upon the ruins of old Paris,--a contrabandaristocracy, a dangerous kind of high life, which, by its unheard-ofextravagance and mysterious splendor, dazzles the multitude, and puzzlesthe police.
The young countess did not exactly receive people notoriously tainted.She was too clever to commit such a blunder; but she bestowed hersweetest smiles upon all those equivocal Bohemians who represent allraces, and whose revenues come much less from good acres in the broadsunlight than from the credulity and stupidity of mankind.
At first Count Ville-Handry had been rather shocked by this new world,whose manners and customs were unknown to him, and whose language evenhe hardly understood. But it had not taken long to acclimatize him.
He was the firm, the receiver of the fortune, the flag th
at covers themerchandise, the master, in fine, although he exercised no authority.All these titles secured to him the appearance of profound respect; andall vied with each other in flattering him to the utmost, and payinghim court in the most abject manner. This led him to imagine that hehad recovered the prestige he had enjoyed in former days, thanks tothe skilful management of his first wife; and he assumed a new kind ofgrotesque importance commensurate with his revived vanity.
He had, besides, gone to work once more most industriously. All thebusiness men who had called upon him before his marriage alreadyreappeared now, accompanied by that legion of famished speculators, whomthe mere report of a great enterprise attracts, like the flies settlingupon a lump of sugar. The count shut himself up with these men in hisstudy, and often spent the whole afternoon with them there.
"Most probably something is going on there," thought Henrietta.
She was quite sure of it when she saw her father unhesitatingly give upthe splendid suite of apartments in the lower story of the palace, whichwere cut up into an infinite number of small rooms. On the doors thereappeared, one by one, signs not usually found in such houses; as,"Office," "Board Room," "Secretary," "Cashier's Room."
Then office-furniture appeared in loads,--tables, desks, chairs; thenmountains of huge volumes; and at last two immense safes, as large as abachelor's-lodging.
Henrietta was seriously alarmed, and knowing beforehand that no one inthe house would answer her questions, she turned to M. de Brevan. In themost off-hand manner he assured her that he knew nothing about it, butpromised to inquire, and to let her know soon.
There was no necessity; for one morning, when Henrietta was wanderingabout listlessly around the offices, which began to be filled withclerks, she noticed an immense advertisement on one of the doors.
She went up to it, and read:--
FRANCO-AMERICAN SOCIETY,
For the development of Pennsylvania petroleum wells.
Capital, _Ten Million of Francs._ Twenty Thousand Shares of 500 Francseach.
The Charter may be seen at the Office of M. Lilois, N. P.
_President_, Count Ville-Handry.
The books for subscription will be opened on the 25th of March.
principal office, _Palace of Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennes_.branch office, _Rue Lepelletier, No. 1p_.
At the foot, in small print, was a full explanation of the enormousprofits which might be expected, the imperative necessity which had ledto the establishment of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Society, the natureof its proposed operations, the immense services which it would renderto the world at large, and, above all, the immense profits which wouldpromptly accrue to the stockholders.
Then there came an account of petroleum or oil wells, in which itwas clearly demonstrated that this admirable product represented, incomparison with other oils, a saving of more than sixty per cent;that it gave a light of matchless purity and brilliancy; that it burntwithout odor; and, above all, that, in spite of what might have beensaid by interested persons, there was no possible danger of explosionconnected with its use.
"In less than twenty years," concluded the report in a strain of lyricprophecy, "petroleum will have taken the place of all the primitiveand useless illuminating mediums now employed. It will replace, in likemanner, all the coarse and troublesome varieties of fuel of our day.In less than twenty years the whole world will be lighted and heated bypetroleum; and the oil-wells of Pennsylvania are inexhaustible."
A eulogy on the president, Count Ville-Handry, crowned the wholework,--a very clever eulogy, which called him a man sent by Providence;and, alluding to his colossal fortune, suggested that, with such amanager at the head of the enterprise, the shareholders could notpossibly run any risk.
Henrietta was overwhelmed with surprise. "Ah!" she said to herself,"this is what Sarah Brandon and her accomplices were aiming at. Myfather is ruined!"
That Count Ville-Handry should risk all he possessed in this terriblegame of speculation was not so surprising to Henrietta. But whatshe could not comprehend was this, that he should assume the wholeresponsibility of such a hazardous enterprise, and run the terriblerisk of a failure. How could he, with his deeply-rooted aristocraticprejudices, ever consent to lend his name to an industrial enterprise?
"It must have cost prodigies of patience and cunning," she thought,"to induce him to make such a sacrifice, such a surrender of old andcherished convictions. They must have worried him terribly, and broughtto bear upon him a fearful pressure."
She was, therefore, truly amazed, when, two days afterwards, she becameaccidentally a witness to a lively discussion between her father andthe countess on this very subject of the famous placards, which werenow scattered all over Paris and France. The countess seemed to bedistressed by the whole affair, and presented to her husband all theobjections which Henrietta herself would have liked to have urged;only she did it with all the authority she derived from the count'spassionate love for her. She did not understand, she said, how herhusband, a nobleman of ancient lineage, could stoop to "making money."Had he not enough of it already? Would he be any happier if he had twiceor thrice as many thousands a year?
He met all these objections with a sweetish smile, like a great artistwho hears an ignoramus criticise his work. And, when the countesspaused, he deigned to explain to her in that emphatic manner whichbetrayed his intense conceit, that if he, the representative of the veryoldest nobility, threw himself into the great movement, it was for thepurpose of setting a lofty example. He had no desire for "filthy lucre,"he assured her; he only desired to render his country a great service.
"Too dangerous a service!" replied the countess. "If you succeed, as youhope, who will thank you for it? No one. More than that, if you speakto them of disinterestedness, they will laugh in your face. If the thingfails, on the other hand, who is to pay? You. And they will call you adunce into the bargain."
Count Ville-Handry shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly; and thenhe said, taking his wife by the hand,--
"Would you love me less if I were ruined?"
She looked at him with her beautiful eyes as if overflowing withaffection, and replied in a voice full of emotion,--
"God is my witness, my friend, that I should be delighted to be able toprove to you that I did not think of money when I married you."
"Sarah!" cried the count in ecstasy, "Sarah, my darling, that was a wordworth the whole of that fortune which you blame me for risking."
Even if Henrietta had been more disposed to mistrust appearances,she would never have supposed that the whole scene was most cunninglydevised for the purpose of impressing upon the count's feeble intellectthis idea more forcibly than ever. She was rather inclined to believe,and she did believe, that this Petroleum Society, conceived by SirThorn, was unpleasant to the countess; and that thus discord reigned inthe enemy's camp.
The result of her meditations was a long letter to a gentleman for whomher mother had always entertained a great esteem, the Duke of Champdoce.After having explained to him her situation, she told him all that sheknew of the new enterprise, and besought him to interfere whilst it wasyet time.
When she had written her letter, she gave it to Clarissa, urging herto carry it immediately to its address. Alas! the poor girl was rapidlyapproaching an incident which was to bring about a crisis.
Having by chance followed the maid down stairs, she saw her go into theCountess Sarah's room, and hand her the letter.
Was Henrietta thus betrayed even by the girl whom she thought so fullydevoted to her interests, and since when? Perhaps from the firstday. Ah, how many things this explained to her which she had hithertowondered at as perfectly incomprehensible!
This last infamy, however, tempted her to lay aside for once hercarefully-nursed reserve. She rushed into the room, crimson with shameand wrath, and said in a fierce tone,--
"Give me that letter, madam!"
Clarissa had fled when she saw her treachery discovered.
"This
letter," replied the countess coldly, "I shall hand to yourfather, madam, as it is my duty to do."
"Ah, take care, madam!" broke in the poor girl with a threateninggesture; "take care! My patience has its limits."
Her attitude and her accent were so terrible, that the countess thoughtit prudent to put a table between herself and her victim. But suddenlya great revolution had taken place in Henrietta's heart. She saidroughly,--
"Look here, madam, let us have an explanation while we are alone. Whatdo you want me to do?"
"Nothing, I assure you."
"Nothing? Who is it, then, that has meanly slandered me, has robbed meof my father's affection, surrounds me with spies, and overwhelms mewith insults? Who forces me to lead this wretched life to which I amcondemned?"
The countess showed in her features how deeply she was reflecting. Shewas evidently calculating the effect of a new plan.
"You will have it so," she replied resolutely. "Very well, then, I willbe frank with you. Yes, I am bent on ruining you. Why? You know it aswell as I do. I will ask you, in my turn, who is it that has doneevery thing that could possibly be done to prevent my marriage? Who hasendeavored to crush me? Who would like to drive me from this house likean infamous person? Is it not you, always you? Yes, you are right. Ihate you; I hate you unto death, and I avenge myself!"
"Madam!"
"Wait! What had I done to you before my marriage? Nothing. You did noteven know me by name. They came and told you atrocious stories inventedby my enemies, and you believed them. Your father told you, 'They arewicked libels.' What did you answer? That 'those only are libelled whodeserve it.' I wanted to prove to you that it is not so. You are thepurest and chastest of girls whom I know; are you not? Very well. I defyyou to find a single person around you who does not believe that youhave had lovers."
Extreme situations have this peculiarity, that the principal actors maybe agitated by the most furious passions, and still outwardly preservethe greatest calmness. Thus these two women, who were burning withmortal hatred, spoke with an almost calm voice.
"And you think, madam," resumed Henrietta, "that sufferings like minecan be long continued?"
"They will be continued till it pleases me to make an end to them."
"Or till I come of age."
The countess made a great effort to conceal her surprise.
"Oh!" she said to herself. "Oh, oh!"
"Or," continued the young girl, "till he returns whom you have takenfrom me, my betrothed, M. Daniel Champcey."
"Stop, madam. You are mistaken. It was not I who sent Daniel away."
Daniel! the countess said so; said familiarly, Daniel! Had she any rightto do so? How? Whence this extraordinary impudence?
Still Henrietta saw in it only a new insult; no suspicion entered hersoul, and she replied in the most ironical tone,--
"Then it was not you who sent that petition to the secretary of thenavy? It was not you who ordered and paid for that forged document whichcaused M. Champcey to be ordered abroad?"
"No; and I told him so myself, the day before he left, in his own room."
Henrietta was stunned. What? This woman had gone to see Daniel? Was thistrue? It was not even plausible.
"In his room?" she repeated,--"in his room?"
"Why, yes, in University Street. I foresaw that trick which I couldnot prevent, and I wished to prevent it. I had a thousand reasons forwishing ardently that he should remain in Paris."
"A thousand reasons? You? Tell me only one!"
The countess courtesied, as if excusing herself for being forced to tellthe truth against her inclination, and added simply,--
"I love him!"
As if she had suddenly seen an abyss opening beneath her feet, Henriettathrew herself back, pale, trembling, her eyes starting from theirsockets.
"You---love--Daniel!" she stammered,--"you love him!"
And, agitated by a nervous tremor, she said, laughing painfully,--
"But he--he? Can you hope that he will ever love you?"
"Yes, any day I may wish for it. And I shall wish it the day when hereturns."
Was she speaking seriously? or was the whole scene only a bit of cruelsport? That is what Henrietta was asking herself, as far as she was ableto control her thoughts; for she felt her head growing dizzy, and herthoughts rushed wildly through her mind.
"You love Daniel!" she repeated once more, "and yet you were married thevery week after his departure!"
"Alas, yes!"
"And what was my father to you? A magnificent prey, which you didnot like to let escape,--an easy dupe. After all, you acknowledge ityourself, it was his fortune you wanted. It was for his money'ssake that you married him,--you, the young, marvellously-beautifulwoman,--the old man."
A smile rose upon the lips of the countess, in which she appearedherself in all the deep treachery of her secret calculations. She brokein, laughing ironically--
"I? I had coveted the fortune of this dear count, my husband? You do notthink of it, madam? Have you so completely forgotten the zeal with whichyou heard me, only the other day, try to turn him from this enterprisein which he is about to embark all he possesses?"
Henrietta hardly knew whether she was awake or asleep. Was she not,perhaps, under the influence of one of those hallucinations which feversproduce?
"And you dare tell me all these things, me, Count Ville-Handry's owndaughter, the daughter of your husband?"
"Why not?" asked the countess.
And, shrugging her shoulders, she added in a careless tone,--
"Do you think I am afraid of your reporting me to him? You are atliberty to try it. Listen. I think I hear your father's footstep in thevestibule; call him in, and tell him what we have been talking about."
And, as Henrietta said nothing, she laughed, and said,--
"Ah! you hesitate. You do not dare do it? Well, you are wrong. I mean tohand him your letter, and I shall call him."
There was no need for it; for at the same moment the count entered,followed by austere, grim Mrs. Brian. As he perceived his wife and hisdaughter, his face lighted up immediately; and he exclaimed,--
"What? You are here, both of you, and chatting amicably like twocharming sisters? My Henrietta has come back to her senses, I trust."
They were both silent; and, seeing how they looked at each other withfierce glances, he went on in a tone of great bitterness--
"But no, it is not so! I am not so fortunate. What is the matter? Whathas happened?"
The countess shook her head sadly, and replied,--
"The matter is, that your daughter, during your absence, has written aletter to one of my most cruel enemies, to that man who, you know,on our wedding-day, slandered me meanly; in fine, to the Duke ofChampdoce!"
"And has any one of my servants dared to carry that letter?"
"No, my friend! It was brought to me in obedience to your orders; andthe young lady summoned me haughtily to hand her that letter."
"That letter?" cried the count. "Where is that letter?"
The countess gave it to him with these words,--
"Perhaps it would be better to throw it into the fire without readingit."
But already he had torn the envelope; and, as he was reading the firstlines, a crimson blush overspread his temples, and his eyes becamebloodshot. For Henrietta, sure of the Duke of Champdoce, had nothesitated to open her heart to him, describing her situation as itreally was; painting her step-mother as he had anticipated she wouldbe; and at every turn certain phrases were repeated, which were so manyblows with a dagger to the count.
"This is unheard of!" he growled with a curse. "This isincomprehensible! Such perversity has never been known before."
He went and stood before his daughter, his arms crossed, and cried witha voice of thunder,--
"Wretch! Will you disgrace us all?"
She made no reply. Immovable like a statue, she did not tremble underthe storm. Besides, what could she do? Defend herself? She would notstoop to do that
. Repeat the impudent avowals of the countess? Whatwould be the use? Did she not know beforehand that the count would notbelieve her? In the meantime, grim Mrs. Brian had taken a seat by theside of her beloved Sarah.
"I," she said, "if I were, for my sins, afflicted with such a daughter,I would get her a husband as soon as possible."
"I have thought of that," replied the count; "and I believe I have evenhit upon an arrangement which"--
But, when he saw his daughter's watchful eye fixed upon him, he paused,and, pointing towards the door, said to her brutally,--
"You are in the way here!"
Without saying a word, she went out, much less troubled by her father'sfury than by the strange confessions which the countess had made. Sheonly now began to measure the full extent of her step-mother's hatred,and knew that she was too practical a woman to waste her time by makingidle speeches. Therefore, if she had stated that she loved Daniel,--astatement which Henrietta believed to be untrue,--if she had impudentlyconfessed that she coveted her husband's fortune, she had a purpose inview. What was that purpose? How could any one unearth the truth fromamong such a mass of falsehood and deception?
At all events, the scene was strange enough to confound any one'sjudgment. And when Henrietta, that evening, found an opportunity to tellM. de Brevan what had happened, he trembled in his chair, and was sooverwhelmed with surprise, that he forgot his precautions, and exclaimedalmost aloud,--
"That is not possible!"
There was no doubt that he, usually so impassive, was terribly excited.In less than five minutes he had changed color more than ten times. Youwould have thought he was a man who at a single blow sees the edifice ofall his hopes crumble to pieces. At last, after a moment's reflection,he said,--
"Perhaps it would be wise, madam, to leave the house."
But she replied sadly,--
"What? How can I do that? After so many odious calumnies, my honor andDaniel's honor oblige me to remain here. He recommends me only to fleeat the last extremity, and when there is no other resource left. Now, Iask you, shall I be more unhappy or more seriously threatened to-morrowthan I am to-day? Evidently not."